


Plastic Horses, Show Mothers, and Meddling Men

by crushing83



Series: Spins and Pirouettes [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bard's children - Freeform, Demisexuality, I am not a guy so I have trouble with guy-communications, M/M, Modern AU, Pre-Slash, Protective Bard, english Thranduil, equestrian AU, liberal application of text messages, maybe demisexual character, mentions of other Tolkien characters, the bardlings, western Bard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 00:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3916942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the off-season, Bard and Thranduil manage to stay in contact. Through regular text messages and a few phone calls, they get to know each other a bit better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plastic Horses, Show Mothers, and Meddling Men

_Did you know it's considered rude to tell a student's parents their child has no hope of winning even if they spend a small fortune on a well-bred, trainer-ridden horse?_

Bard took one look at the locked display of his phone and had to smother a laugh. 

He wanted to reply to Thranduil's message, but knew it wasn't the best time to be seen texting. He had four students riding around him in the outdoor arena; he was in the middle of a lesson and shouldn't waste his students' time (or their parents' money). 

"Alright, guys," he said in a loud voice. "Why don't you all jog your ponies? Stay back, keep your hands quiet, squeeze your legs---" 

His students clucked their tongues (one of the verbal cues often used to cue a horse into a jog or trot) and a couple of them flailed their legs. 

"Easy, Leo," Bard instructed one of the flailers. "You'll make Daisy cranky if you get too wriggly. Squeeze nice and slow. Bump her sides a couple of times, only if she doesn't listen."

Leo nodded. His brow furrowed as he concentrated, trying to school his twelve year old body into stillness. He managed to get Daisy jogging after another thirty feet or so; his face relaxed and he smiled a little. 

He glanced around. Everyone else was jogging. Emilia, the newest addition to his Thursday afternoon class, was looking very pleased with herself. She'd been riding for a few months, already, but her parents decided to bring her to a 'better' facility. Bard wasn't sure what to make of her yet. She was determined; she wanted to win and Bard didn't know if he liked that attitude in one so young. 

His phone buzzed again. He risked a peek at the screen. 

_Honestly. I did them a favour and they act as if I besmirched their royal house._  

Bard could almost feel Thranduil rolling his eyes. He smiled. 

Ever since the autumn show a month or so ago, he and the coach from Mirkwood had maintained a nearly steady stream of conversation through a series of regular texts. The blond man was funny; he had a strong sense of humour but it was also the latest drama in his life he described that made Bard laugh. He listened and offered sound advice, too; more than once, he'd acted as a sounding board (once he'd finally managed to get Bard to admit something was bothering him) and had made suggestions that proved helpful when put into action. 

Bard did his best to provide similar counsel in return. He liked Thranduil; he found that he looked forward to their conversations, to what else he could learn about the other man. 

He'd caught Sigrid once, looking up information online about a boy she liked. When he realised he was curious about Thranduil, he thought about doing the same thing; he refrained, however, because he wanted to learn from the source himself as long as he were willing. He was no longer a schoolboy and playing games seemed exhausting; he bided his time, waited for the morsels of information with which Thranduil gifted him, and provided his own truths in return. 

Bard shook himself from his thoughts as he caught sight of Emilia crossing the arena and cutting Leo off in the process. He held in a sigh.

"Emilia, make sure you pay attention to where you're going," Bard said in a carrying voice. "In a show ring, something like that could cost you the judge's favour."

He said that because he knew nothing else would drive the point home better than the loss of a ribbon. He strongly disliked having to make that point to one so young but he knew he had to. 

"Leo," he added, "if someone cuts you off again, try to stay calm. Just stay sitting quiet. If you need to pull out and circle back, here it's perfectly fine to do that. You take care of yourself and your horse and you stay safe." 

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat and continued to watch his students. Emilia and Leo seemed sorted for the moment; Timmy and Jan were doing alright, it seemed, too. 

"Alright," he called out. "In a few minutes, you're all going to pull away from the rail and circle to the left, to the inside. 

"You're going to do it calmly and quietly. Keep your right hand a little low and a little back on the outside, and your left hand up a bit on the inside," he continued to instruct. "The circle shouldn't be so big to take you to the other side of the ring, but it shouldn't be too small, either. About two horse lengths wide.

"And if you can, keep your head up. Look to where you're going," he added. He took a breath and said: "And circle now." 

He watched as all four turned off of the rail, away from the fence and towards the centre of the arena. Their circles were more distended ovals than any other shape. 

"Back on the rail. We'll try that again in another few minutes," he told them. "The next time, I want you guys to watch where you're going. Turn your heads, map the circle out, look two steps ahead of where you are.

"For now, watch where you're going. Keep your chins up! I want to see eyeballs, not eyelids." 

He decided to risk sending a quick text back to Thranduil. 

_Haven't you already learned not to get between a show mother and her dreams? That's dangerous business._

"Alright!" Bard exclaimed as he pocketed his phone. "Prepare to circle... sit on your right seat bone, outside hand back, inside hand up, and circle." 

They did much better that time. He smiled. 

"Good job, guys," he told them. "How about a posting trot now? Let's give these horses a workout."

Emilia trotted past him. She was rising on the incorrect diagonal*, meaning she was rising when the inside leg was extending forward, instead of with the outside leg's extension. 

"Check your diagonal, Emilia. Sit for two beats and rise again." 

She nodded and did as he told her. 

He watched the others. "Jan, try to keep your hands set---" he set his own hands low and in front of him, in the correct riding position "---just like this."

Jan glanced at him and nodded before turning back and trying to keep her hands still as she rose and fell. 

"If you start flopping around, your horse isn't going to know what you want him to do," he reminded the young girl as she trotted around the short end closest to him. 

"You all look good," he told them. "Let's see if you can keep it up for a few laps. Let's let these guys move a bit, and then we'll try a lope." 

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to look at the message Thranduil sent him. 

_Perhaps I'm braver than you :P_  

Bard fired back a quick response.  _Or dumber._

Thranduil sent another message. _Imagine I'm flipping you the bird._

Bard bit back a laugh, sent a smiley-faced emoticon, and tucked his phone away. It was time to focus. His students needed to finish on a positive note and he would need his full attention focused on them if he was going to get them lope once round the arena. 

&&&

At the end of the lesson, Bard hung around the stables doing what needed to be done. Braga, one of the others in Mr. Esgaroth's employ, had been expected to close the place for the night, but he hadn't yet made an appearance. Bard still had another lesson, but if Braga wasn't going to show, the nightly tasks would fall to him and he did not want to be working too late. 

He swept the aisles that would not be used. He checked the young horses. He made sure the feed was divided up into small buckets and waiting, stacked, in a wheelbarrow for the morning feeding. 

His evening class students arrived and his afternoon class students finished grooming and tidying. He doled out assignments and horses to the former and he inspected the latter's horses and work areas. 

Leo, Jan, and Timmy were picked up. Emilia was last to leave, but even when her mother arrived, she still wasn't leaving. 

"Mrs. Nowles," he said politely. He set his broom aside and brushed his hands off on his jeans. "What can I do for you?" 

"I wanted to talk to you about my Emilia's progress," the well-groomed, impeccably-dressed woman said. She smiled as her daughter sidled up to her; she put a hand in her daughter's golden hair. "We're hoping to buy her a horse. Something she can compete on." 

_She's only twelve_ , was what Bard wanted to say, but he held his tongue.

"A lot of people decide to go that way," he said in what he hoped was a neutral tone of voice. "Emilia's learning, but she's only been at it for a few months. Even in Novice Youth, she'd be showing against kids who have been riding for years." 

Mrs. Nowles frowned. "Surely a good horse would make up the difference."

"It'll help," Bard agreed. "There'll be good horses in the ring, too, though, and there are things only practice and experience can help with. Obviously, if you want to buy her a horse, then she'd be able to put in the time and they'd have a chance at becoming a really good team." 

Bard itched to write Thranduil a quick text--- _Oh god, it's happening here, too. I'm being cornered by a future show mother!_ \---but there was no way to do it discretely. 

"If there's a type of horse you're looking for, I can start putting feelers out and see what's available," he added, in an attempt to placate the woman. 

It seemed to do the trick. She graced him with a smile. "That would be helpful," she said in response. "I expect you'll be doing most of the training and riding, so something that would suit you, too, would probably be preferable."

Bard blinked. He hadn't expected her to say that. He also hadn't expected to see Emilia's mouth curve into a pleased grin. 

"I'll let you know if I hear anything. Of course, I can also put you in touch with a horse broker or two," he said. "They'd be able to send you videos of any available and suitable horses."

Mrs. Nowles smiled. "Sounds great. If they could send you the videos, just let us know if anything catches your eye." 

Still feeling a little stunned, Bard managed a nod. The woman nodded in reply and ushered her daughter out of the barn. 

As soon as he had a minute to himself, Bard sent a text to Thranduil. 

_I think I was just asked to buy a show horse for a girl who's only been riding five months, so she can compete next season._

Five minutes later, he received a reply: _I hope you told her to get lost._

_I don't think my boss would've been too pleased if I'd done that._  

Just as he was taking his second group into the indoor arena, he received another message. _For fuck's sake. What an idiot._

While he was trying to decide if Thranduil was talking about him, his phone buzzed again. 

_Esgaroth. Not you._

Bard smiled. He pocketed his phone and trained his focus on his older students. 

&&&&&

_You were right. He's an idiot. I just got the talk about teamwork and helping out fellow teammates. He would have been more genuine if he told me he wanted to make more money._

&&&&&

Bard's off-season routine was simpler than his routine during show season: morning turnouts, feeding (if Braga doesn't show up by the time Bard has the assigned horses in the paddocks), breakfast and getting his kids to school, riding workouts if necessary, bringing horses back in from the paddocks, afternoon and/or evening lessons, and then supper and time with his children.

 

It was busy enough to keep him occupied, but not enough to leave him feeling close to frazzled and exhausted. 

Normally, he lost himself in that routine, pushing aside any desire for companionship or any lingering grief to do his job and be a good father. But, since his ongoing dialogue with Thranduil, he found it harder to lose himself in his day-to-day tasks; he also found that the aches in his heart and mind were less, too, since they started talking back and forth. 

He wasn't sure what to make of that, except that he was glad the heaviness had lessened. 

Sigrid had decided---unaware of how Bard had been feeling---that he was entering into a relationship with Thranduil and that was why he smiled more easily than he usually did. 

Luckily, she shared her belief with him in private, so his other two children were not teasing him about his personal life, too. His eldest was menace enough; every time he answered a text in her presence, she smiled knowingly and asked how his new friend was in a tone of voice that was too teasing and too pleased for his liking. 

Their friendship wasn't like that. He tried to tell her that they were just friends, that he was certain nothing else was happening, but she reminded him of how he said Thranduil had blushed when they first met and of the little smile Bard made every time his phone beeped. 

"Oh, knock it off, love," he muttered as good-naturedly as he could, one night when he was doing the dishes and Sigrid was making lunches for school the next day. 

Thranduil had interrupted their quiet peace with a message--- _Elrond is visiting! I may not survive the weekend!_ \---to which Bard typed a quick reply--- _He'll be gone soon. It's just a few days._ \---and when he looked up he discovered that Sigrid was smiling at him. 

When he attempted to convince her to drop the subject, she chuckled and returned to wrapping the sandwiches she'd made for herself and her siblings. 

_It is a few days! He is insufferable! He thinks he knows best and he meddles!_

Bard smiled a bit. _Well, when he gets to be too much, you take a minute and call me. tell him he's driven you to therapy and your psychiatrist is on speed dial?_ he typed back.

_ha ha. Very funny._

_Seriously. You can always call if you need to. If I can't answer, I'll call back as soon as I can._

He dried two pots before Thranduil's response flashed across the screen of his phone. 

_You might regret making that offer, but thank you._

Bard smiled again. He replied: _I won't regret it. Stay out of the wine, do things that keep you calm. He only meddles because he cares._

"How's Thranduil?"

Bard snorted at his daughter's question. "Fine." He turned and faced his daughter. "I know it's fun to tease your old, addled dad, but maybe you could give it a rest?" he asked in a gentle tone. He wanted the teasing to stop, but he did not want to hurt her feelings. "Thranduil and I are just friends, and we're barely that, really, seeing as we just met a couple months ago." 

Sigrid frowned. "Dad, I didn't mean---" she broke off and sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you."

Bard pulled her into a hug. "You didn't. Not really. But I'd like to nip those fanciful ideas of yours in the bud."

"He's cute. You're not unfortunate looking, either. You'd be a good looking---"

"Sigrid..."

She stepped out of his arms and raised her hands in an apologetic gesture. "I can't help it. I want you to be happy."

He smiled a bit. "I know. And I am," he assured her. "So, while I appreciate that there's some fun to be had---"

"It's not like that," she said quickly. "I just think... well, you know what I think."

Bard leaned forward and kissed her forehead before hugging her again. "I know. But, we're just friends," he murmured quietly. "Okay?"

Sigrid nodded. She was smiling as if she would not completely drop the notions she had, but he knew she'd listen to him and stop teasing him so much. 

"Why don't you go off to relax a bit while I finish the lunches?" he suggested. "I can take it from here." 

"You sure?"

Bard nodded. "Go on, watch TV or read a book or something else that normal teenagers do," he insisted. "I can get the juice and water bottles and put them in your lunch bags." 

Sigrid smiled. Bard's phone beeped again. Her smile stretched but she was gone before either of them could say anything. 

&&&

_Stay out of the wine._

&&&

_You're no fun._

&&&

The first phone call came minutes after he dropped off his children at their respective schools. He answered it on the third ring and turned on the speaker phone function so he could continue to drive. 

"Hel---"

"He won't stop! He's only been here one night! He keeps suggesting things and it has to stop! But it won't!" 

Bard smiled. "Thranduil, take a breath and tell me what's happened."

Thranduil obeyed. He inhaled slowly, loudly, and exhaled in a similar fashion. Then, he resumed speaking---but without the frantic tone in his voice. 

"Elrond arrived late last night. Ahead of schedule," he explained. "Legolas was pleased. I suspect he had something to do with it, but he'll never admit to it. He seems to think Elrond's friendship is good for me. 

"But all he's done so far is make suggestions about how I may improve my life," the other man said. He paused and took another deep breath. "It's impossible. I tell him my life is working, but he insists it isn't. He's so sure he knows best---" he broke off and muttered a string of curses under his breath. 

Bard frowned. He didn't know the other man well, but he did not like hearing how upset he was, even in a calmer tone.

"Just because he makes suggestions, doesn't mean you have to put them into action, does it?" Bard asked. 

"Well... no. But it won't stop him from suggesting..."

"What is he pestering you about?"

"Riding again."

Bard's frown deepened. He suspected Thranduil had not ridden since his accident. There was a reason---fear---riders were advised to get back on immediately after falling if they could, but Thranduil's accident had left him with lasting damage so he must not have been able to get back on a horse at the time due to injuries. Getting over that fear would take considerable effort on Thranduil's part, and Bard didn't know if he was ready for such action. 

"If your answer's no, your answer's no," he advised. "But if there's a chance you want to get back in the saddle, maybe it would be best to do it with a close friend near---"

"My muscles aren't what they once were," Thranduil interrupted him with a quiet admission. "And it would not be Elrond I'd invite to witness my first ride in years." 

Bard sighed quietly. "I can understand that." 

"He's already picking at me," Thranduil said quietly. "I don't know how I'll fend him off for three days." 

"By being tough," Bard reminded him. "You are Thranduil Doriath, a brilliant trainer and breeder, as far as I've heard, and I imagine you didn't get to have that reputation by letting yourself be pushed around." 

"I... well, good point."

He smiled. He drove on, turning left onto a road that would take him away from the main area of town and towards the farmland that bordered the community. 

"He's a good friend, though, despite his more annoying qualities?" Bard asked into the silence. 

Thranduil snorted. "Our fathers weren't close, but had friends in common. We grew up showing together. Over time... well, I helped him with his farm, he helped me when I was ready to strike out on my own. Our children are close. We're practically family." 

"Only family can really get under our skin in that perfectly annoying way," Bard said quietly. He chuckled when he thought of Sigrid's quest to see him paired up with Thranduil. "It's just how family is." 

"What's so funny?" 

Bard felt his face heat up. "I... oh, Sigrid and I are having a it of a disagreement, I guess. It's nothing. She means well, but every time she brings it up, I get a little annoyed with her flights of fancy." 

"She worries about you."

"And she's entirely too perceptive for her own good," Bard added. "It's a dangerous combination." 

"I know," Thranduil agreed. "Between Legolas and Elrond, I may never have a moment's peace." 

Bard smiled. "Just remember they mean well. And they can't actually force you to do anything." 

The other man huffed. "If only Elrond would remember that." 

"Then, you make him remember," Bard said, hoping to make the man feel braver and not resigned. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do." 

Then, after a long pause where neither man said anything, Bard gave voice to one of his concerns. "I don't like the idea of you so uncomfortable. Is there anything I can do to help?" 

Thranduil sighed. "Honestly? This helps. I... I may be easily excitable at times. You seem unflappable... it helps." 

Bard smiled as he turned his truck onto the road that would take him to Esgaroth Farms. "Still, I wish I could do more," he admitted. "How's the visit going apart from Elrond's meddling?"

"Fine. He brought his daughter, Arwen, and she and Legolas have been inseparable since they arrived. I thought their friendship was breaking apart over the last couple of years, but it seems it's on the mend." 

"That's good, right?" 

Thranduil sighed again, but it was a smaller sound. "Yes... but I worry about him."

"You wouldn't be a good parent if you didn't worry." 

"I know," the other man said quietly. He paused, made a noise of slight distress, and then asked: "I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?"

"Nope. I'm driving back after dropping the kids off at school," he told his new friend. "I have time to talk." 

"What are you doing today?" 

Bard thought about his schedule for a minute before answering. "Some riding, and then my afternoon lessons. Have to start training the young ones to lunge soon, but I might wait til Monday for that." He paused and then asked: "What about you?" 

"Ignore Elrond's nagging, teach lessons, and watch Legolas ride one of our two year olds," Thranduil replied, "and then I'll have to finish cooking. We're having a big family dinner tonight. Lots of wine and food." 

The dark-haired man smiled. "Sounds nice." 

"I suppose." 

He chuckled. "You can do this," Bard said in an encouraging tone of voice. "You're going to enjoy the visit, apart from Elrond's interference." 

"Maybe."

Bard pulled the truck into the driveway to the farm and slowed his driving speed. "He can't make you do anything you don't want to do." 

Thranduil gave another sigh. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to call and whine---"

"You didn't. Don't worry about it. Honestly, I'm glad you called," Bard interjected. "You seemed stressed in your texts last night. I was wondering how the weekend would go for you." 

"So far, very... stressful." 

"You're going to get through it," Bard reminded him. 

Not for the first time since meeting the coach, he wished he could physically shield him. While he knew Thranduil was strong and perfectly capable of defending himself, there was something in his demeanor that spoke to the protective side of Bard's nature. It gave him a sensation akin to an itch he couldn't scratch, being unable to do anything but offer an ear. 

"I might have to call you tomorrow so you can remind me of that." 

Bard chuckled as he pulled into the parking spot by his home. "If it'll help." 

"Thanks, Bard." 

"You're welcome. Please try to enjoy some of your day, alright?" 

"I'll try. Have a good day, Bard." 

"Thanks, Thranduil. Talk to you later." 

&&&

The second phone call came as Bard was getting into bed that night. Sigrid had gone to a friend's house for a sleepover, and Bain and Tilda had gone to bed early after a very busy evening of riding and helping with the nighttime chores, so he'd decided to take advantage of the quiet and get some more sleep than he usually did. 

For a second, he thought about ignoring the phone. His concern for Thranduil won out over his desire for sleep, though, and he answered it. 

"Well, you've survived so far," he murmured after greeting the other man. 

"Barely." 

Bard settled back into his pillows and turned off his bedside lamp. "How bad has it been?" 

"He... well, we had an argument today." 

With a frown, Bard asked: "How are you?" 

"I'd be better if he wasn't right," Thranduil admitted in a mumble. The blond sighed. "I miss riding. He's right about that. But..."

"He hasn't had an accident like yours," Bard said, recalling how he felt about driving, especially at night, after his accident, after he was healed enough to get behind the wheel again. "It's hard to explain how that affects you." 

"Yes," Thranduil whispered. 

"Maybe... I don't know. Maybe make a plan. In a year, you'll get back in the saddle. Or, tell him if you find someone you trust to help you, then you'll do it," Bard suggested. "But only if you really want to. Obviously." 

Thranduil was quiet for a few minutes. Then he hummed softly, as if in thought, distracted. Bard closed his eyes and listened to the sound, the tune, and tried to place it. 

"What are you doing tonight?" Thranduil asked, voice nearly still whisper-soft. 

"Right now, I'm in bed," he admitted on a little laugh. "Sigrid's out with her friends, and Bain and Tilda went to bed earlier than I thought."

"Did I wake you?"

"No, you didn't," Bard assured the other man. "Honestly, I was just getting into bed when you called." 

Thranduil made a wordless response, a songless hum, and then he asked, "Good day?"

"Not bad. Tilda rode Thor for about an hour, which meant I had to tire him out first, but that's no hardship," Bard said, recalling the events of his day. He sighed. "Had a run-in with Alfrid, but that's not unusual. Then, Tilda and Bain helped me do all the evening chores so we could get home." 

"How's Tilda's riding coming?"

Bard smiled as he pictured her in his mind. "Better than this time last year. She's more fearless than my other two, though. Watching her urge Thor into a lope for the first time without any instruction just about did my heart in." 

"She wants to catch up?"

He chuckled. "Maybe. I still think she's just trying to be ready to learn to jump," he explained. 

Thranduil chuckled. "Proper thing," he teased. "Jumping is much more fun than those silly spins and sliding stops you do." 

"Hey now. I happen to remember a very english coach coming over to tell me how much he enjoyed watching my silly spins and sliding stops," Bard said in a gruff, but light-hearted, voice. 

Thranduil's voice softened again. "Well, they were rather good," he conceded. "But, he's a former jumper. What does he know?"

He'd said it jokingly, but before Bard could rein in the impulse, he was telling Thranduil he shouldn't say things like what he'd just said. 

"That I'm a former jumper? Bard, it's the truth," Thranduil replied in a voice light with laughter. 

Bard grunted. "You know what I mean." 

"Bard, Bard, Bard..." 

"What?"

"Are you the champion of lost causes?"

He grimaced. "Stop it, would ya? You're not a lost cause." 

"Bard, I appre---"

Bard interrupted him. "Remember how you said you were going to have your work cut out for you?" he asked. When Thranduil made a noise of (confused) assent, he continued: "I'm beginning to think that's going to go both ways, pal." 

"You're going to... what, exactly?"

"Never you mind, but there might be some sort of punishment if you keep it up."

"Punishment?" Thranduil asked.

Bard felt his cheeks heat up at the repetition of the word. In Thranduil's voice (or in Bard's mind), there was an element of tawdriness associated with the word Bard had not previously considered. 

"Okay. Maybe not. Maybe there will be a reward, instead, if you break that bad habit." 

"Reward?" the blond asked, almost purring out the reward. 

"God, you're trouble," Bard said after a quick bark of laughter. 

"You have no idea, _pal_ ," Thranduil replied, amusement in his voice. 

Bard chuckled. When his laughter faded away, he turned onto his side, keeping his phone at his ear. "What are you doing tonight? Besides hiding from Elrond, I mean." 

"I was trying to read a book. Arwen took Legolas and Elrond to the stables, thank goodness, on the pretense of looking at the broodmares," he replied. 

"How many do you have?" Bard asked. 

"Only two out of five caught this year," Thranduil told him. "Not the luckiest batch, but better than nothing for the amount I paid. They're my favourite mares, they produce good foals. It should all work out in the end." 

Bard smiled. For a moment, memories of Lily's farm in the spring haunted him; he could see the long-legged foals bouncing around their mothers and playing with each other. He remembered helping Lily and her father name them and fill out their registration papers. He remembered fitting them with their first halters, and---

"Bard?"

He rolled back onto his back and groaned. "Sorry, Thran. I was just... remembering." 

The other man paused for a moment before speaking again. "Ah. Good memories?"

"Yeah," Bard replied. "Just thinking about when I spent my time at Lily's family's farm. There were always lots of foals in the spring. Some a bit earlier." 

"You helped train them?" 

"Not until after I'd spent a couple years working with the two year olds," Bard admitted. "Lily's father liked groundwork. He's a really quiet man. Good at getting weanlings used to him, at convincing them to trust him. I wish I had half of his knack for it." 

"I'm sure you do fine. Esgaroth wouldn't keep you around if you didn't win him results." 

Bard sighed. "Yeah, I guess. Sometimes, I think he keeps me around for sport." 

Thranduil asked: "Why do you stay?"

"It's hard to find a place looking to hire a trainer and provide housing for him and his young family on top of some salary," Bard admitted. "The pay's not enough to make up for living somewhere else when you can't spend much time there. I couldn't be apart from my kids for that many hours in the day." 

It was Thranduil's turn to sigh. "I suspect if you have another couple of years like this year, that might change," he said quietly. "From what Gandalf has told Elrond, you've been doing better every show season." 

"I don't know... maybe." 

Thranduil tsked him with his tongue before speaking. "No, definitely. Agree with me." 

Bard smiled. "An important lesson?"

"Yes." 

He sighed, but there was no sadness or frustration in the gesture. "Fine. I agree with you." 

"About...?"

Bard snorted. "About what you said." 

"And what was that?"

"You know what it was," Bard replied. 

Thranduil must have been grinning; Bard could hear his enjoyment in his voice when he spoke again. "I do," he said, "but I think it would be beneficial to the lesson to hear you say it." 

Bard laughed again. "Fine, fine... I agree with what you said about my possibly having an easier time finding another place to work and live, if I manage to do as well in the next few years as I did this year," he said.

Giving voice to those words didn't sit well with him---it felt too weird, too confident, too much like tempting fate---but he didn't share that feeling with Thranduil. 

But, he already knew Bard wasn't buying it---or daring to buy it. 

"The next time we try this exercise, I'll insist on a bit more enthusiasm," Thranduil told him. 

Bard smiled into the near-darkness of his room. "Sure," he agreed, with little conviction in his voice. 

"You think I'm kidding." 

"I think you're in over your head." 

Thranduil snorted. "I don't know. I recall just minutes ago someone telling me I'm smart and tough and I don't usually let people tell me what to do." 

"Now you remember." 

"Yep." 

Bard chuckled. "You really are trouble," he muttered good-naturedly.  

"Sometimes, yes," Thranduil agreed, laughter in his voice. He trailed off and sighed. "I'd promise to behave but that doesn't sound very fun." 

"No, it doesn't," Bard agreed after a moment spent contemplating an even-mannered, well-behaved Thranduil (and deciding that while he didn't know the other man very well, it wouldn't be a good thing if he suddenly acted less true to his personality---even if it made him easier to predict). "What book were you trying to read?"

The blond made a quiet noise of what sounded like embarrassment before he uttered: "Just... trash. Nothing exciting." 

Bard grinned. "Sounds like it _could_ be exciting." 

"Shut up." 

"Pirates?"

"What?" Thranduil asked. 

"Is it about pirates?" Bard asked. "Or someone needing rescuing from a brave knight?"

Thranduil sighed. "No and no." 

"About a mysterious, reclusive person of means and a poorer employee who brings them out of their shell?" Bard inquired. 

The other man gave a little laugh. "No."

"Is it about---"

"Are you going to keep guessing?" Thranduil interjected. 

"Maybe."

Bard paused and thought about what other sorts of books he knew Lily had enjoyed reading when on vacation after they were married---and when she was too young for them and smuggled them out to one of their secret hiding places before that. 

"A moody artist?"

"No." 

"Merpeople." 

Thranduil chuckled. "No." 

"Boss and assistant." 

"Nope." 

"Photographer and model." 

"Really, Bard, give it up." 

"Aliens." 

Thranduil laughed. "What sort of books do you read for that to be an option?"

"I haven't had time to read in a very long time," he admitted. "Unless you count my childrens' reading assignments or a chapter of a book with Tilda before bed." Bard paused and then asked: "Ballet dancers?"

"That was last week." 

"So close." 

Thranduil chuckled. "Give it up." 

"Nope. I'm curious now." He paused and considered what other possible tropes there were in trashy novels. "What about doctors? Or a cute country vet?"

"No and no." 

"Horse ranchers. Like the rugged cowboy and---" 

A bark of surprised laughter cut him off. 

"Reading a trashy cowboy book, hmm?" Bard teased. 

"Maybe," Thranduil replied with a sniff. 

Bard grinned, please that he figured it out. "How is it?" 

"I'd been too ruffled to really enjoy it so far," the other man admitted. "I expect I'll enjoy it more later." 

"Good," Bard said quietly. 

He felt better knowing he'd helped, even a little. He wished he could protect Thranduil from Elrond a bit more, but he knew from personal experience that some recovery cases called for a little (or a lot of) tough love. He didn't have their history, so all he could really do was support Thranduil as best as he could and hope that Elrond knew what he was doing. 

"I should let you get to sleep," the blond said quietly. "You wanted to go to bed early and I'm keeping you up." 

"Are you going to be alright?" Bard asked. 

"Obviously."

Bard frowned. "I know. I just meant... with the immediate stuff."

Thranduil softened his tone. "Oh. Yes. I think I've vented out the immediate frustration."

"Good." 

"Thanks." 

"Anytime," Bard said, without reservation. 

Thranduil hummed again, a wordless agreement. Then, he said: "So, good night. And sleep well." 

"You, too, when you get there. And enjoy the cowboy book."

&&&&&

Over the next few days, Bard learned he couldn't ignore Mrs. Nowles' request. She'd apparently gone to Alfrid to repeat her suggestion that Bard look for a horse for Emilia. And he, of course, had gone to a few of the horse brokers that the farm's owner used when buying his first aisle of horses. 

Packages of video tapes and DVD discs began arriving to the farm; Alfrid had no problem leaving them in his small office in the barn, stacking them on his already-cluttered desk until they were sliding off every time Bard came near the mountain of padded envelopes. 

He started taking them home at night, watching a few at a time. Sigrid and Bain disapproved of what he was doing---buying a show horse for a girl who hadn't even been riding for year---but they understood he had to do it. Tilda was excited to look at all the horses, and after dinner every night she would climb into his lap to watch the videos with him in their living room. 

He had a short list of candidates, but without firsthand knowledge of the horses in question, it was difficult to decided which would be best. It was also difficult to make a decision because he knew Emilia wasn't ready for a show horse. 

She needed a horse to learn with, a mount who knew the ropes, who was calm and reliable. A horse like that was not necessarily a show horse. Show horses were athletes, not pets---although he and his children tended to treat Thor and Jane more like pets, there was a line of demarcation in the arena and on the show grounds that they did not cross with pet-like treatment and their horses seemed to understand that. And show horses needed a firm, certain seat and leg to push great performances from them (fairly consistently). Emilia was in good physical shape, but she didn't have the strength or experience for that; no one but Bard seemed concerned about that. It seemed like it was expected that he would be doing most of the riding; that would do the horse a disservice (because he or she would become used to Bard's strength) and would also do Emilia one as well (because she would not be building upon her strength and experience). 

After a text from Thranduil--- _Gandalf would help in a heartbeat. This is something he would enjoy doing. Send him a list of candidates near Rivendell._ \---Bard pared down his short list to horses around Imladris and thought about which he'd like Gandalf to inspect most. 

When he had it narrowed down to four possibilities, he called Gandalf. 

"Bard Bowman!" the older man exclaimed when Bard introduced himself. "How are you?" 

"I'm alright, sir," Bard said with a smile. "And yourself?" 

"Just fine. I've decided to go to Rivendell for the winter months. Elrond has offered me a home, and I do like his farm."

Bard felt a couple of things snap into place in his mind. (Elrond must have told Thranduil about Gandalf coming to stay with him, which was why Thranduil was certain Gandalf would be able to inspect the horses near Imladris.)

"Thranduil said he has a nice place," Bard said, hoping he could use the mention of his new friend to circle the conversation around to his asking for a favour. 

Gandalf made a pleased sound before responding. "Oh, you and Thranduil are still in contact!" he exclaimed. "That's wonderful. How is he?" 

"Fine," Bard said vaguely. He didn't want to betray any confidences, even if there weren't any secrets to keep. "He's actually part of the reason why I'm calling." 

"Oh?"

"He suggested I get in touch with you," Bard explained. "See, I'm in the process of finding a show horse---"

"For yourself?"

Bard sighed. "Sadly, no. A mother of one of my newer students wants her daughter to start showing next year. She's tasked me with finding a horse."

"Has she been riding much?"

"Maybe a few months," Bard said, trying to keep his tone even. 

Gandalf sighed. "I suppose Maxwell wants you to make his client happy."

"Pretty much." 

"Well, I could put you in touch with a broker---"

"I've already been in touch with the ones we use, and I've got a few horses that might work, but I can't drop everything and go traveling to check them out," Bard interrupted. He frowned. "Is there a chance I could trouble you with a favour?" 

"It's no trouble, my boy!" Gandalf exclaimed. "Send me the list, and I'll look at the horses. It will be a little adventure!" 

Bard breathed a long sigh of relief. "Really? Because that would be a huge help. I don't know if it's worth much to you, but I'd owe you a huge favour." 

"Nonsense!" Gandalf exclaimed. "I would do this for fun, you will owe me nothing." 

"Alright, but I'll still consider myself in your debt." 

Gandalf sighed in exasperation. "If you must." 

Bard chuckled a little. "I must." 

"I figured as much," the older man said with a laugh of his own. "Now, you text me those horses' names and locations, and I'll do the rest." 

"I will as soon as I hang up," he told Gandalf. "And, sir, don't rush. I would like to... well, I'd like to make sure it's the right decision, if you catch my meaning." 

"I do," Gandalf said on a chuckle. "I'll take my time." 

"Thank you, Mr. Greyhame." 

Shortly after that exchange, they ended the call and Bard texted the older man the names and locations of the horses in and around Imladris. Then, he set his phone down. He rubbed his hands over his face; he glanced at the clock on his desk. There were twenty minutes before his showmanship lesson, he realised. With a sigh, he stood up and strode out of his office to see if his students were ready. 

&&&&&

"Hey," Bard said quietly into his phone. He sat down on his bed and resisted the urge to let out a sigh. It had been a long, hard day and he was aching. "How are you?"

Thranduil sighed. "Fine." 

Bard frowned. "Thran..."

"It's nothing." 

"You know you want to tell me." 

Thranduil snorted. "I do not. I called so you could tell me something good. Something distracting."

"Finished your cowboy book?" Bard teased. 

"Oh, please. It was a cheap, cheesy drugstore book, not _War and Peace_ ," Thranduil retorted. "I finished it that night." 

Bard smiled. "Your rugged cowboy got laid?" 

"Something like that." Thranduil chuckled. "Tell me something." 

"Gandalf said he'd look at those horses for me."

"I knew he would. Something else, Bard."

Bard sighed. It wasn't nearly as satisfactory as he thought it would be. "Well, I got thrown this morning," he said quietly. "And I nearly punched Alfrid before my afternoon lessons. All in all, it was a crummy day." 

Thranduil made a quiet, distressed noise. "Thrown? Bard! What---I mean, are you alright or---"

"Hey... I'm fine," Bard interrupted. He internally scolded himself for making Thranduil worry unnecessarily. "It was one of the two year olds, I got right back on---"

"You could've been injured! Did anyone look you over?" 

"No, I know what a bruised tailbone feels like," he replied. 

"Bard!" 

He eased back so he was lying down across his bed. "Thran, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make light of it, but it really was a minor tumble," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have said anything. Not even my kids know. I'm pretty bruised, but I'll survive." 

"Did you hit your head?" the blond asked quietly. 

"I landed on my ass." 

"Well, yes, but---"

"I didn't hit my head," Bard assured the other man. "I really bruised my ass, though." 

Thranduil exhaled slowly. "Did you ice..."

"My ass?" Bard asked on a little laugh. "No, I did not put ice on my ass." 

"It might help." 

"It might."

"Bard..." 

Bard smiled. "Don't worry. I'm fine. Or I will be once the bruising fades a bit." 

Thranduil sighed. "Fine. But I will be calling to check on you."  

"I know," he said, still smiling. 

"What stupid thing did Alfrid say to you today?" 

Bard chuckled. "It's not important." 

"Oh, come on. Tell me about his idiocy." 

"He's been trying to play matchmaker," Bard admitted, after a bit more cajoling. He chuckled an uncomfortable laugh. "It's ridiculous, really, but he was talking about one of the women---one of my students' mothers---and he was speculating about my own preferences, and I just... well between the two, I was very angry."

"He's not worth it," Thranduil said quietly. 

"He talks about how being with one of them could mean more money, indirectly, and it makes me sick."

"They're not pretty?" Thranduil asked. 

"That's not the point." 

The blond sighed. "I know. If they're not your cup of tea, couldn't you just tell Alfrid that?" 

Bard frowned. "I don't know if that would make things better or worse, to be honest." He shifted on the bed so he was up against his pillows. "I don't know them. They're pretty, I guess, but I'm not wired that way. It wouldn't feel right." 

"You prefer men?" Thranduil asked. 

"This is going to sound weird, but I've only ever been attracted to my wife. I knew her for years, and then all of a sudden..." he trailed off. 

"So you need an emotional connection to feel attraction. That's not unusual." 

"It's not?" 

"No," Thranduil said in a softer voice. "Some people chose to only act on attraction if they feel an emotional connection, but there are some who can only feel attraction if there is an emotional foundation of some kind." 

"Oh." 

"So, tell Alfrid to knock it off." 

Bard smiled. "Sure." 

"Bard, I'm serious!" 

He chuckled. He felt lighter, somehow, after telling Thranduil that truth and receiving acceptance in return. 

"I know you are." He paused and then said, "Thanks."

"For what?" 

"For not making me feel like a freak."

Thranduil snorted. "It would be very hypocritical of me if I did," he said. "Besides, you're not a freak. Don't be ridiculous." 

Bard chuckled. "Alright. Now, it's your turn. Tell me something." 

"It was nothing."

"Thran..."

"Honestly, Bard, I---"

"You called to unload. You won't feel better until you spit it out. So tell me." 

"Bard."

"Thranduil. Tell me what's on your mind." 

Bard only had to wait four minutes and eleven seconds (he counted the time passing on his alarm clock) before Thranduil was muttering about Elrond inviting Legolas to teach at Imladris for a week during the winter holday season and then about the man inviting him to come and teach, too, but---

"---to teach yoga!"

The reiner blinked. "Do you do yoga?" he asked. 

"Every morning. Sometimes at night. It was the only thing I could do for a while after I'd finished with physical therapy," Thranduil explained. "I have a routine I teach some of my students to help increase their strength and balance." 

Bard tried to picture the tall man bending and twisting himself up like a pretzel. He flushed and coughed guiltily. 

"What?" Thranduil asked. 

"Just... nothing." 

"No, what?" the blond pushed. 

Bard tried to laugh it off, but he felt embarrassed. "Was just picturing you... doing yoga. Sorry about that." 

"Why would you apologise?" Thranduil asked. "I wouldn't have mentioned it if I wanted to keep it a secret." 

"It just seems... wrong, maybe, to picture you doing... stuff like that," Bard mumbled. 

Thranduil laughed. He sounded pleased, but Bard wasn't sure why he would be. "Bard, Bard, Bard," he murmured, laughter still in his voice. "Did you like what you pictured?"

"Thran." 

The blond made another pleased sound, but without laughing again. "Then, good. I find it flattering, knowing you had inappropriate thoughts about me---"

"They weren't like _that!_ " Bard cut in quickly. 

"Oh, what a disappointment." 

"Thranduil!" 

"What? I like being desired." 

"By anyone?" Bard asked. 

"No, but I hardly have any control over that," Thranduil replied. "Do you think I should be uncomfortable that you, in particular, imagined me in some pose that highlights what flexibility and strength I have left?"

Bard winced. He wasn't sure what the right answer was. "Maybe?"

"For the record, I'm not. So, you picture whatever it is you want to picture, alright?" Thranduil murmured, drawing the 'alright' out a few seconds longer than the other words and ending on a sharper-than-usual 't' sound. "It's fine with me." 

"I didn't mean it that way. I... it was just... you're so tall." 

"And bendy," Thranduil teased. 

Bard smiled up at the ceiling. "You're trouble," he said quietly (not for the first time). 

"Look, if it helps any at all, I pictured you as the rugged cowboy character from the book I was reading," the blond said, "and I don't regret it at all. You cut a fine figure in chaps. And out of them." 

Bard squawked. His face heated and shock made his pulse skip a few bits, he was sure. He'd never expected Thranduil to say something like that. He never expected anyone to ever say anything like that to him---but then, Thranduil often veered away from the expected, the predictable. 

"Seriously?" Bard asked, unable to keep a surprised squeak out of his voice. 

"Yes, of course, seriously. Why did you think I didn't want to tell you what book I was reading?"

"I... because it was a cheesy romance book?"

"Sex book. There was very little romance." 

Bard closed his eyes. He made himself take a deep breath. "I... well, wow." 

"Don't you watch porn?" Thranduil asked. "It is pretty much the same thing, just in book form." 

"I don't exactly... I mean... the kids, and, well, really, no time, and---"

"Okay, okay. We can change the subject. I don't want you suffocating or blushing to death," Thranduil said quietly, apparently taking pity on Bard's flustered state. 

"It wasn't that bad." 

Thranduil didn't laugh, but Bard was pretty sure he was smiling. "You couldn't complete a sentence." 

"Shuddup." 

"Alright," the blond murmured. He sighed. "I should probably go, anyway." 

"Wait," Bard insisted. He felt like his mind was scrambling for purchase on unfamiliar ground. "Just... wait. Are you going to teach the class?"

Thranduil paused. "Oh... I don't... I don't want to. I prefer to stay out of the public eye if I can avoid it. You know me." 

Bard smiled a bit. "Yes, I do. Teach the class. It'll be good for you." 

"Why?"

"To try new things? To... to do something different," Bard replied. "We don't teach anything like that here. I don't know about other places, but it sounds rare. Might be good for the students to do." 

"You sound like Elrond." 

Bard grunted. "Low blow, Thran. Consider it, okay? It might be a good thing." 

Thranduil sighed, too. "Alright. I'll consider it. No promises." 

There was a pause between them. Bard wasn't sure about Thranduil's side, but on his, it was full of questions he didn't know how to ask---why were you thinking of me? why were you thinking of me _in that way?_ why is it okay if I think of you in that way? (but it wasn't really _that_ way, just with all the bending...) and so on. By the time he'd run through all the questions he wanted to be brave enough to ask, Thranduil was making a small humming noise. It sounded like he was uncomfortable. Bard frowned and silently cursed himself. He hadn't wanted to make his friend uncomfortable. 

"Hey," Bard said. 

"What?"

"I'm sorry if I---"

"Don't." 

"But I---"

Thranduil cut him off again. "Don't. Nothing's wrong. And I'll eventually forgive you for pushing me to give Elrond what he wants," he said. "Eventually. After some payback." 

Bard smiled a bit. "Alright." 

"I'm going to let you go to sleep. I hope you feel better tomorrow." 

"I'll probably hurt more tomorrow." 

Thranduil sighed. "That's usually what happens. Take care of yourself, alright?"

"I will," Bard murmured. "Good night, Thran." 

"Good night, Bard." 

They ended the call. Bard wriggled back into bed without causing himself too much extra pain. As he put his phone down on the mattress, he thought over their conversation and hoped he was only imagining that Thranduil's parting sounded like a good-bye. 

&&&

 

_Good morning. Just texting to report that I'm moving slow but I know my name and what day it is, so I think I'll survive._

&&&&&

 

A few days after his fall (and his last conversation, by call or text, with Thranduil), Bard was in the house grabbing a bite to eat and a few more over-the-counter painkillers when his phone rang. Hoping it was his new friend, he fumbled for the device and answered it without checking the display. 

"Hello?"

"Bard! Gandalf Greyhame here," the unmistakeable voice told him. 

Bard pushed aside his disappointment at not hearing from Thranduil and smiled. "Hello, sir. How are you?" 

Gandalf scoffed. "Honestly, is it so hard to remember my name?"

"Gandalf, hello." 

"Much better. How are you?"

"I'm alright, all things considering," he said, not wanting to get into a conversation about his fall. It was a minor injury; it hurt, but it was survivable and there was no need to announce it to the world. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, for starters, two of those horses are pretty nice. You might consider one of them for yourself. Or your eldest," he said. 

Bard chuckled. "I'm not exactly in the market for another horse, but, hey, maybe I should take a look, just in case." 

Gandalf laughed a bit, too. "They were the second and third horses you sent me, look them up when you get a chance," he advised. 

"Were any of them suitable for a beginner?"

"No, but I'm not giving up the search yet. I put a call out to Sam in Hobbiton. He's got a few, and I know young Frodo does, too."

Bard frowned. He knew Samwise Gamgee was a decent reiner, but he also knew that the younger man's level of showing was often beneath that of Bard's children and many of his students; he doubted Emilia would be pleased to spend a year on a smaller, rougher circuit, but he also doubted he'd be able to get her ready to show on a higher level. 

"Doesn't hurt to look," Bard reasoned. "If they have videos or a website---"

"I'll put them in touch with you," Gandalf assured him. 

"Sounds good." 

"Now. The main reason I'm calling is to tell you Elrond has agreed that a clinic with a couple of outside instructors would be beneficial to his students and anyone else in the area that wants to come in and learn," the older man said before Bard could say anything else. "He put me in charge of organising the event, and I have to say, we're both hoping you'll consider joining us for the week, between Christmas and the new year." 

Bard had decided to try one of Sigrid's muffins and was picking it apart, but when Gandalf finished talking, he set it down and glanced at the large wall calendar they kept in the kitchen. He'd known the clinic was a vague idea---he'd guessed it was becoming more concrete after Thranduil's last phone call, too---but he hadn't really expected to be invited in a serious capacity. 

It looked like they were free, though. They were supposed to do the grandparent thing twice before Christmas---once on the twenty-third and then again on the twenty-fourth---but after that, it was just him and the kids until school resumed after the start of the next year. He would be able to take them, if they were willing to go, as long as he could find accommodations in the area for them. 

"If my employer agrees to reasonable terms, then I would be thrilled to take part," Bard said honestly. "But, if it's going to mean I lose what I'd make while here..." he added, flushing as he admitted some of the truth of his situation, "well, it would be difficult to make that work." 

"You leave it to me," the old man said. "I'm going to call Maxwell, obviously. He'll want part of your fee, but I bet between the possibility for new business and being able to get a first-hand look at some of the horses for your new student, he'll agree."

"He might," Bard agreed. 

"Anyway, you leave that to me, young man," Gandalf said. "I have a plan." 

Bard felt his eyebrows jump up in surprise. "Sir, I would love to take part, but please don't go to any unnecessary trouble." 

"Oh, shush. Let me have my fun," Gandalf said, cheerfully scolding the younger man. "As for the finer details, Elrond has already said you can stay at the house, you and your children, and most of your meals will be covered. There will also be stalls available if you want to bring Thor and that mare with you." 

"I... wow. Really?"

"Yes! Thranduil and Legolas will be there, too, teaching the english side of things. We were thinking english in the morning, showmanship after lunch, and western after that, or maybe the other way around---western first, then showmanship, and then english in the afternoon," Gandalf explained, sounding more excited the longer he spoke. "We've still got a bit of time to put it all together, but there are already a few who have tentatively signed up." 

Bard smiled. "That's great. I hope it all works out." 

"I'm planning it! Of course it will work out." 

Bard gave a title laugh. "Alright. Then, I leave my fate I your capable hands, sir." 

"I'll be in touch." 

"Thanks, Gandalf." 

He put his phone down after the older gentleman hung up. He stared at his device, ate a bite of his muffin, and then picked it up again. 

_might be going to Rivendell after xmas. hope to see you there._

&&&&&

_just tell me Elrond didn't kidnap you._

&&&&&

"Hello?"

Bard felt a wave of relief at the sound of Thranduil's voice. He'd decided, after another few days of radio silence from the other man, to call him himself and find out what was keeping the normally chatty man away from his phone. 

"So you are alive." 

"Of course I am," Thranduil commented. "Why on earth would you think that I'm---"

"Nevermind," Bard interrupted. "You okay?" 

Thranduil hesitated before responding. "Fine. I'm fine." 

"Okay. Great. I better get back to work," he said, feeling both relieved and frustrated. "Talk to you later?" 

"I... yes, of course. If you're---"

"I'll talk to you later, Thran," Bard murmured, hoping his tone of voice was friendly but carrying enough of a hint of a demand to make his point, whatever it was. "Have a good afternoon." 

He ended the call and went back into the barn to check on his students and their horses, feeling a little less uncertain about Thranduil's behavior and their friendship.  

&&&

An hour later, his phone beeped. 

_Sorry if you were concerned._

Bard smiled and typed out a reply. _Don't worry about it - just glad you're alright._

&&&&&

It took another week before Bard and Thranduil were talking as often as they used to. Their first phone call since the blond's disappearance had been awkward, and it took a few days after that before they returned to a steady rhythm of texts and calls. 

(Sigrid, of course, had asked if they'd had a fight or had broken up.)

Bard didn't want to ask what had happened, but he still wanted to know. He caught himself wondering about it from time to time; while he didn't feel certain, by the end of a few days' worth of contemplation, he figured he'd either said something dumb or made Thranduil feel uncomfortable. 

He tried very hard not to do that again. 

Eventually, though, Thranduil's teasing returned and lulled him back to their previous state of friendship. 

"So, here's the deal," Thranduil said one night, after Bard had shuttled the kids off to bed and gone to his own bedroom. "I will teach the yoga class on one condition."

"Yeah? That's great." 

The blond chuckled. "You haven't heard my condition." 

"I assumed it had to do with Elrond." 

"You assumed incorrectly." 

Bard frowned. "Oh. Legolas?" 

"Nope." 

"Me?" 

Thranduil laughed again. "Yep. You so sure you want me to teach the class now?" 

"Yeah, sure, I mean, you could ask for my firstborn, but I don't think you'd be that unreasonable," Bard joked. "How bad could this condition be? I think it's great you're going to teach." 

"It's good to hear you say that, because I'm going to insist that you join my class---all three sessions---as my condition for doing it." 

Bard blinked at the wall opposite him. 

"Wait... what?" 

"You heard me." 

Bard struggled to put words together for a few minutes before finally saying: "But, I'm not bendy!" 

"Maybe you will be by the end of the week." 

"And we don't even know if I'm going to be able to go! Maxwell still hasn't given me permission---"

Thranduil interrupted him. "You and I both know that Gandalf is an excellent meddler. He will persuade your employer to let you go." 

Bard sighed. "What if I can't do it?" 

"Then your students will enjoy your struggle." 

"Thran..." 

"Honestly, though, you're in fine physical condition and if you really have a hard time, I'll go easy on you," the blond murmured. "I wouldn't make it too difficult." 

"I've never done anything like yoga before," Bard admitted. 

"You might enjoy it." 

Bard sighed. He knew he was going to give in, he just wasn't sure to what he was agreeing. 

"Alright." 

Thranduil made the wordless sound Bard associated with him being pleased. "Good. You'll need to bring stretchy, comfortable pants," he told Bard. "Jogging pants would work, but I know I'd love to see you in leggings." 

Bard choked. Thranduil laughed. 

"That's definitely not happening." 

"Drats." 

&&&&&

_So it looks like I'm getting a night off this Friday. Kids all have sleepovers. Any book or movie recommendations for me?_

&&&&&

"Okay, Jan," Bard called out. "When you get to 'A,'** I want you to sit deep and urge your horse into a lope."

 

His student nodded and when she reached the middle of the short end by the arena doors, she did her best to urge Butterscotch into a lope. After pushing with her outside leg and making a kissing noise, the dun mare finally gave in and picked up a loping stride on the correct lead. 

"Good!" Bard praised her. "Next time, though, if you think she's feeling sluggish, start pushing on her in the first corner so you're loping before the next corner." 

Jan nodded and guided the mare down the long side of the arena. 

"Lope until you get to behind Timmy, with enough room for safety, and then bring Butterscotch down to a walk," he instructed her. 

He turned his attention to Leo. "Alright, Leo the Lion, you're up!" he called out. "When you get to 'E,' lope off. Let's try to get Daisy loping before you get to 'H,' alright?" 

Leo nodded, smiling a bit, and he pushed his mount into a relatively smooth transition from a walk to a lope. 

"Good! Now, keep her together until you get to Jan." 

Bard turned his head, saw Jan as she stated her downward transition nd smiled. It was quiet---probably because Butterscotch was one of the laziest horses Bard had ever encountered---and Jan was a little over a horse length behind Timmy. 

"Good job, Jan. Don't let Butterscotch slow down too much---and don't let her speed up, either. She might want to when Leo comes loping up to you." 

Jan nodded. Bard turned his attention to Emilia. She was already shifting her weight; the horse she was riding, Beau, was anticipating what was coming next. 

"Easy, Emilia. Don't get ahead of yourself." 

"But, I'm next." 

"I might ask you to jog instead," Bard said. "I might ask you to stay walking."

"But, I'm going to be next. I'm just getting ready." 

Bard bristled at her backchat. Since her mother requested he find Emilia a horse, the young girl was getting saucier. He'd had a problem with her attitude before her mother's request; since then, his problem had only grown. 

Leo had just slowed to a walk. He looked around the arena and thought about his options. He knew a deviation could cause conflict---between him and Emilia, him and Alfrid (via Mrs. Nowles), and Emilia and her classmates---but giving in would let Emilia feel like she could walk all over him. 

"Alright. Let's trot your ponies a bit. Beau's got some energy still and I think Butterscotch could use the exercise," he told the group. 

Emilia rolled her eyes but guided Beau into a trot. She got the right diagonal on the first try, as did the others. Bard watched them for a few minutes before deciding to try something different. 

"Emilia! When you get to the corner, cut across and go to the other diagonal," he instructed. "Stay on the inside of the others, come around the short end, and go back across the diagonal. When you're in that corner, if you've got it to yourself, lope. If not, do another hourglass, and try again."  

She nodded. 

Bard kept his eyes on her as she trotted away from her classmates. Her form was getting better, he could admit; he was glad to see she was holding herself (and her mount) straight as they trotted across the diagonal of the arena. 

He glanced at the others as Emilia met the rail and changed directions. 

"Timmy, watch your hands don't get too low, okay?" 

The young boy nodded and brought his hands up so they were between the horn of the saddle and his mount's withers. 

"That's better," Bard told him. He turned his attention back to Emilia. "Looks good, just make sure you keep your chin up. I want to see eyeballs, not eyelids, remember?"

She lifted her chin up as she rounded the corner and set off cross the other diagonal. 

"Alright! You sit when you hit the wall and keep your outside leg back," he told her. "Lope before you get to the other corner." He looked at Timmy. "Timmy, find a spot on the rail, and you're gonna lope, too." 

Emilia loped off with little problem. Beau didn't have a natural, show-ready lope; his three-heated gait was choppy and Emilia had to struggle to keep her seat and look at ease. She was game, though, and as much as her attitude bothered him, he did like that she was keen. 

"Good! Timmy, you're up. You guys are all going to have to watch out for each other," he told the arena of students. 

He was able to get Leo and Jan loping again, too, and all four of them loped once around the arena. He stopped them, though, before they got tired and let things fall apart; it was also getting close to the end of their hour, and he wanted to give them time to ask questions and cool down the horses. 

"Good job, guys," he said as they came into the centre of the arena. "You're all getting stronger. Maybe next week we'll try some serpentines with simple lead changes and see how that goes." 

He smiled at Jan as she patted Butterscotch's neck. "Dismount when you're ready, take 'em in. Their supper should be in their stalls, so be ready for that when you put them away." 

"Thanks, Bard," Leo said quietly as he slid to the ground. 

The others murmured their thanks as a group. 

Bard smiled and waved them off. One by one, they went into the barn again, and then he was alone in the arena. 

He stifled a yawn---it had been a long day---and picked up his phone. There were two messages waiting for him. 

The first was from Thranduil. 

_If you're looking for an entertaining read, try this._

He studied the message. There seemed to be a file attached. When he touched it, it opened in his phone's electronic book reader and he thought his heart stopped when he saw the cover. He shoved the phone into his pocket and looked around wildly. 

Once he was sure he was completely alone, he pulled out his phone again. 

The cover of _Tie Me Up, Let's Go For A Ride_ gleamed up at him. He blushed at the image of the cowboy sitting on the top rail of a fence, with another leaning on the rail next to him. They were both dressed, but somewhere between the over-the-top smolder and the too-tight-to-be-comfortable jeans both models were wearing, he had a feeling that he already knew what the book was about. 

Not sure how to respond to Thranduil's message, he went back to see what the other one was. 

It turned out it was from Gandalf. 

_Well, my boy, it looks like you'll be joining us after the holiday. Maxwell was agreeable. We'll talk terms tomorrow!_

Bard smiled and typed a quick reply. 

_Sounds great. I'll be in touch after I get my kids to school. Thank you, Gandalf._  

He looked at Thranduil's message and thought about what he could possibly say. 

_Looks like I'll be seeing you at the clinic. Thanks for the book. I'm sure i'll love it._

Thranduil replied with _;P enjoy your night off._

Bard chuckled and pocketed his phone. He didn't think he'd read the book, but he was glad that he and Thranduil seemed to be on good terms again after their moment of awkwardness, their friendship replaced on the right track and progressing nicely. 

The end!

**Author's Note:**

> *For information on posting and diagonals, try [this video](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3gnKYEK1EMM)
> 
> **Dressage markers in an arena are usually (I think) letters in a specific order. But, a lot of the mixed performance places where I've ridden use the basic letters because they're universal and are good markers along arena walls, especially in lessons. A reference of the (simpler) layout can be found [here](http://localriding.com/image-files/dressage-arena-sml.jpg). (There are different sayings to remember the order of the letters, too. I learned them as "All kangaroos eat hot coconut milk before freaking (and X marks the spot)!" but there are many others.) 
> 
> This piece of the story might have seemed aimless and may have dragged on, but there were things I wanted to touch on and things I needed to mention before the holiday clinic story. 
> 
> (Oh, and that book? Totally made it up. A cheesy title, maybe, but I wanted it to be obvious. If there is a book with that title, I apologise for my poking (slight) fun.) 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :)


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